


The Bargain, The Cost

by silentsoundy



Category: Transformers, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1286104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentsoundy/pseuds/silentsoundy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A major plot progression point where a cease fire is called and the terms of surrender are discussed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bargain, The Cost

**Author's Note:**

> ||initially seven chapters, I've consolidated this ficlet to test out how this site publishes works. Future works of mine will be published with proper chapters, and will not be as difficult to follow, hopefully||  
> FORMAT:  
> Action/Narrative: --TEXT--  
> Soundwave's Telepathy: **TEXT**  
> Soundwave's Recordings: {TEXT}  
> Ravage's Speech: ^^TEXT^^  
> Additional speech: "TEXT"

—the dark spy had seen Blaster and HiFi off earlier that cycle the moment his newspark was done her wakening ration. They could have stayed longer, he had wanted that very much so, but he had required time alone to gather his thoughts and replay the various outcomes he’d envisioned his rendezvous with the Autobots was going to come about. Mid-recharge cycle, he had gathered what troops he had under his command at this lunar outpost, briefed them of this cycle’s mission and distributed orders accordingly. Being what they were they were complacent and silent, total obedience embedded into every fiber of their frames, despite the spymaster openly offering to pay mind to any hesitations or curious inquiries. There were none, so in tuned to the dark spy’s commanding presence, they had full confidence that he would, they would, benefit from his plans—

—would he could have but a micron of their fortitude and conviction…—

—and so as the mega-klik arrives, the agreed upon time of the parlay fast approaching, he calls his Deployer to him, who naturally has an inkling as to what will be demanded of him. The cat is there, slinking from the shadows having waited patiently for the summons, and is now sitting back on his haunches, looking up at his Carrier with large, violet optics and a permanent snarl—

^^You will not be alone^^

**I will as I must. I need you here…**

^^Any damned drone can do what you want me to do, you need me down there with you. They’re going to…^^

**They’ll do nothing because they know nothing. Until they are certain of my agenda, they won’t risk terminating me**

^^You’re too confident, too cocky, they’ll tear you apart, they’ll blast a hole through you, melt you down, steal your memories, shatter your spark, and I’ll be stuck up here and you’ll be with Primus and it’ll be like how it was but reversed and I don’t want to…^^

**Be quiet, you’re being irrational. I need you to stay here and keep a channel open between us. One of the recon Seekers will be with you, the one you like who sneaks you treats, and yes I know of that**

^^You’re wearing Laserbeak…^^

**Yes, a bit of heavy armor won’t hurt… Ravage…**

—the silent mech now crouches down and beckons his Deployer to him, who begrudgingly complies, padding over and roughly headbutting his Carrier and what remains of Laserbeak—

^^…you owe it to Laserbeak to return to me^^

**I owe it to you to return, and no one else**

—and just as brief, he stands, parting from that embrace and placing a small container of sweets on the floor under his main console. He reroutes auxiliary access of the comms and bridge to Ravage, nods once and steps through the vortex to arrive at the chosen set of coordinates—

—Jasper, Nevada: thirty-five kliks West of Ground Zero— 

\-------------------------------------------------

—he is as familiar with this Prime as the Prime is with him, having known each other prior to the war, prior to the revolution when Gladiators met with Archivists and Senators and Medics over a cube or two to discuss the finer things in life. And the dark spy had known this Prime when the title was bestowed upon him. Which in his opinion, changed very little in the way they addressed each other—

—upon exiting the bridge, as predicted, the whine and charge of mounted energy weapons fills the air, and playing the part of a gracious guest, he pauses in his gait just as the swirling vortex closes, leaning back on his pede and falling into a passive stance—

"I would ask you to forgive this precautionary measure, Te-"

—a few digits twitch as his crimson optics narrow behind his visor, and the dark spy flicks his helm up, acknowledging Optimus Prime’s presence, yet cutting him off with a multi-broadcasted wave of thought. As a stipulation of the parlay, he had it made known that in this manner he was to communicate in to facilitate and expedite the process, and ensure that there would be very little to misunderstand—

**Pax, address me as your pet humans would, in their vernacular so that your representative can follow along…**

"And you would do good to address Optimus as duty calls for, as your Prime."

—the dark spy’s optics cycle machinations behind his visor as he retains his composure, seemingly ignoring Ratchet’s gruff reminder and remains focused on Optimus—

**He is not my Prime**

—having already ascertained the location of two snipers at his 8 and 4, Arcee and Smokescreen, and having targeted the remaining Bots who have partially surrounded him by now, these details push from the forefront of his thoughts as another energy signal finally makes itself know. The bargaining chip—

"Enough. Soundwave, then, we have acceded to your demands and the human, Agent Fowler, is present. As per your conditions, should you agree to unconditional surrender and terms of the subsequent dissolution of the Decepticon faction, we in turn will allow you to return to your outpost, unmolested, a free bot, with Shockwave, with your full cooperation in accordance to the terms drafted and sent to you prior to this parlay. How do you answer?"

—the spymaster remains unblinking staring at the Prime throughout this formal ordeal, stance unwavering. A dozen kliks tick by in silence, all but the Prime and the dark spy beginning to fidget and shuffle nervously, until the spymaster takes a single step forward. That thrum and buzz of energy weapons renews itself as he senses a handful of weapons draw a bead on him. Good—

**I reject your terms and conditions, and provide my own for a conditional surrender. Have this broadcast to the human as I require his assistance. Will you hear me?**

—another still pause, the silence maddeningly stretching out for ages—

"I will hear you."

\-------------------------------------------------

—the spymaster acknowledges the Prime’s acceptance to at least allow him to propose a suitable counter-agreement, which had already been taken into consideration given the nature of Optimus versus that of the spymaster himself. It was assumed that this parlay was going to be lengthy with counter-demands, as both mecha required certain conditions to be met in order to satisfy their current needs. Even in the precarious position the dark spy is in, he still refuses to back down and play the complacent lapdog. As the Prime assumed would happen—

**I have with me a datapad that contains the extent of my demands in full detail. You will be able to download the contents to review should you wish it and it has been translated from the Decepticon vernacular into both Autobot and Neo-Cybex…**

—with a deliberate show of neutrality and passiveness, he raises his wing-blade from his chassis while his subspace opens and a single feeler extends to produce said datapad. Leaving himself wide open for whatever pop-shots the snipers desire to take at him, the appendage slithers at a lazy pace through the air towards Optimus, offering up the device. The Autobot reaches to take it without hesitation, passing it to Ratchet to have him run a few systematic scans—

**The gist of it remains similar to what you’ve proposed, save for a few changes in accordance to location and demand of research and technology. I am in agreement with you concerning the primary goal, the revival of Cybertron, however I will not surrender what technology you have assumed I’ve 

“stockpiled” during the siege of Darkmount and its subsequent fall. I will impart to you our superior bridging technology, the schema only, data on our medical advances as well as our energon efficiency research. These details are expressed in full in the documents I’ve submitted to you**

"The same means to the desired end results. Insofar as I am able to ascertain the motives of these changes, this is acceptable, however I will not agree so readily. What else have you to mention?"

—the dark spy nods once. He straightens to his full height, and although is dwarfed by the Prime himself, he cants his helm back at a slight enough angle as if to look down upon the mech he once knew as a close acquaintance—

**You are to acknowledge what remains of the Decepticons as an autonomous entity and declare the faction neutral going forth. You are to return the offlined frames of my colleagues to me, fully intact, so that I may send them off to Primus as fallen Decepticon warriors. You are to release Shockwave to me, online and functional and allow us to return to the lunar outpost as free mecha.

**In exchange, you will have our collaboration when we see fit the need to assist you in your tasks. Again these details are provided to you accordingly. These stipulations are non-negotiable. You will comply, else your endeavors would have been all for naught**

—Optimus’s optics grow wide at the list of demands then narrow as he’s forced to make a precarious choice—

"And if we refuse to comply?"

**Have your human step forward and allow him to confirm the lengths I am willing to go to for my freedom**

—and with that, his visor’s display refreshes and begins to download streaming data from a series of orbiting satellites…—

\-------------------------------------------------

{Special Agent William Fowler: Human liaison. Request: Approach, observe, provide explanation. Soundwave: Will remain static}

\--which is to say, the Communications Officer and spymaser is agreeing to the close proximity of said human despite his extreme prejudice, and confirms he will not cause bodily harm to the organic no matter the reaction the information scrolling across his visor garners. The dark spy nods to the Prime, lowering himself into a characteristic crouch to offer Fowler a better view of the details of his bargaining chip--

"As far as I can tell, Prime, these images are of the United States' Department of Defense's orbiting military and communications satellites, but..." The human does indeed approach the spymaster, nerves of steel on the outside, a knot of apprehension tightening within his guts as he realizes what the accumulated snippets of information means, "...the codes scrolling were the launch sequences initiated when the command for the nuclear air strike was issued against Darkmount and the Nemesis. The map on the left where the beacons are, indicate the location of the silos and stockpiles of warheads..."

\--now the human loses a bit of his composure, taking a half-step back from the crouching Decepticon and the cycling imagery of new data procured as what can only be assumed is a live feed streaming from an observation satellite--

"If I'm right in my assumptions, Soundwave is displaying the current positions of the DoD's communications satellites and the current listing of launch sequence codes issued by Washington, and..."

**...and I've cracked into this fragile system of theirs easily enough to guarantee that my demands will be met...**

\--the silent spy straightens once more, waving off the human, dismissing it with the twitch of a few digits, optics returning their focus on Optimus. His display shifts to bring to the forefront that map of continental North America, refreshing the view to display new beacons, bright targets with the mapped flight paths of launched rockets, most remaining inland, others diverted offshore to unknown destinations--

"You mean to hold the entire planet hostage..?"

**If you claim to know me half as well as you would say, you should know my intentions. I am securing my safety and that of what concerns me. If I do not return to the outpost to have my systems confirm my physical spark-energy signature within the next two cycles, they will submit a series of pre-scripted commands to ready the satellites and proceed with the launch and subsequent unloading of all 2731 rockets and nuclear warheads to predetermined targets...**

\--his helm flicks up to have his visor shatter and recede, revealing his expression to be that of one of impassive neutrality. Straightened to his full height, his optics narrow slightly to observe the Prime's reaction. Which is one of quiet, wide-optic'd shock--

"You would decimate an entire planet and the life upon it for the sake of two bots..."

**I would level the entire Western hemisphere and toss this filthy planet into a never-ending nuclear storm. Pax, do you not see the poetic justice? After all, the primitive organics play very well with concepts they barely comprehend themselves. You yourself allowed them to redefine our war, one that's already cost us one planet. Why not end it here...**

{...for the sake of two bots...}

**...you and I haven't changed, Pax, since we were first introduced. Think on this, the implications and what has transpired between then and now. What am I willing to do, Pax? What are you willing to concede to?**

\-------------------------------------------------

"Soundwave, I do not believe that you would take such a great risk in order to secure and advance your own personal agenda. Holding ransom an entire planet of sentient beings hardly bolsters your favour."

\--meeting the Decepticon pace for pace, advancing as the dark spy is towards him, Optimus Prime voices his thoughts and concerns in that deep, calm manner characteristic of him, hoping to call the dark spy out on his bluff. The move played by the spymaster is bold, meant to shock and divert attentions from the pillars of uncertainty and desperation he's facing, yet even with his confident posture and impassivity, the revealing of his wildcard was meant for the human, knowing the Prime would not fall for such cheap tricks--

\--yet the silent mech, in all his deception and cunning, is quite earnest, which the Prime is most wary and uncertain of--

**You've deluded yourself if you thought I'd agree to this rendezvous and parlay unprepared, Pax...**

"He's a monster, Optimus. Call his bluff and terminate him! He'll renege on his part of the treaty the moment it strikes him as being convenient. Do you not remember what he did to you at Polyhex?"

\--the medic, Ratchet, makes his opinions known publicly, finally adding another's vocals to the discussion and seemingly feeding from the tension growing in the atmosphere about the little group. Quiet confusion and mumbling follows as only the Prime and Ratchet know what had transpired so long ago, which inwardly amuses the dark spy. Oh the secrets one keeps--

\--he is outwardly unconcerned about the ramblings going about them, optics still firmly locked on the Prime's cerulean narrowing calm, and a rolling of his left shoulder aids in the silencing and startling of the group as Optimus motions for quiet with a few sternly spoken words and a swift, passive gesture of a servo--

"I hear you, old friend, but our current situation is far, far from that of Polyhex's, and the desperation of those times have shifted and made way to the somber and stark realization that a few concessions made today can put an end to this war..."

"You cannot be seriously considering..."

"I am, and I have, and I will continue to do so, that is, if... Soundwave will concede to a temporary cease fire and truce, allowing us to review his terms and conditions and come to an agreement."

**You've my interest, Pax. What do you propose?**

\-------------------------------------------------

\--however the dark spy measures his respect for the Prime, what little he cares to admit as he harbors that deeply rooted rot of animosity of eons past, he begrudgingly admits to himself that yes, the mech carriers with him an air of command, a natural flow of authority and is an imposition not to be taken lightly nor disregarded so easily. It's not Optimus's frame-type that carries this weight, it is the very spark-presence of the mech, which only a fool would ignore and scoff at with an air of arrogance. This is why, when a temporary proposition is offered, the spymaster regards the gesture as one made in good faith and in earnest belief that mutually acceptable terms can be discussed and met, with very little civil discourse involved--

"My proposition is this, Soundwave: You are to return to your lunar outpost, providing bridge coordinates of various secured destination plots, escorted by two of my team with Shockwave accompanying you. In return we will provide raw energon and additional resources should you require. You will lower the shielding of your outpost twice a cycle and grant access to an inspection team once a seven-cycle for half a cycle, and in return for this, you will be permitted to return to Earth unmolested, under the stipulation that you respect human law and remain undetected by civilians." 

\--there is much for him to consider, and he does so, mulling over the wording, the context, its content, the stipulations and unspoken ultimatums. It is a long while before he moves, before his optics dim and narrow and his helm cants back once more in that proud stance he'd deny if confronted about. His mind flits over those of the immediate vicinity, not to pry into thought, but to gather a sense of position, of sentiment, if idle nervousness is making way to false confidence, if deception can be wrought out of the static charge in the air of systems running hot with anxiety and anticipation. And he finds the air rank of a rawness that's comforting to him. The enemy, no, the opposition, the challenge before him is still desperate and hungry for a resolution. They are all fatigued and clinging to that last fine thread of hope that maybe, just maybe they can finally begin rebuilding. That maybe they won't need to put a barrel to the spymaster's helm and pull the trigger in the name of peace--

\--he'll let them cling to that hope. For now--

**These terms are agreeable, Pax. Where is he?**

"He is here, transported as you requested. Fair warning, he refused all offers of aid and assistance concerning the reparation of his frame and internal systems. Should you require, we will provide security footage of these events as proof. You've seen the images we've sent you. He has not changed since then and requires extensive repairs..."

**I acknowledge this. You will provide the materials we require to perform these repairs...**

"Perhaps attempting to convince him to allow us to assist..."

**Your offer is acknowledged and refused. Bring him to me**

\--at the point the Prime simply nods once, optics narrowing to match that measured, steeled gaze of the dark spy's and he motions for both Bulkhead and Bumblebee to fetch their prisoner from Optimus's trailer not half a kilometer away. It is that very steel that shuts down any and all emotional response the silent mech would cry out at the very sight of his Conjunx Endura limping towards him, escorted by the Autobots at a slow, wary pace--

\--the very rubble of Darkmount that fell upon Shockwave was only partially successful in shielding the mech from the nuclear attack, however enough so that he retained cognitive function and most of his mobility. Aesthetically, from what the dark spy is able to quickly ascertain, the Panzere's entire left side has become a molten ruinous mess of grey armor, twisted as if it was nothing more than plastic melted before a weak flame. His bright crimson optic displayed that thinly shatter of a spiderweb's design, still functional however ruined it was. He trudges towards them in stasis cuffs and is equipped with two inhibitor claws clamped to his massive chest plate and cannon, although the spymaster has very little doubt concerning the mech's inability to transform and use that gift of Empurata--

**...**

\--his EM field is coiled tight about his core and his expression remains cold, aloof as his optics are finally drawn from Optimus's to focus on Shockwave, as Shockwave focuses on him--

\--the escorted mech halts alongside his little party, just to the left of the Prime, silent, sentiments unfathomable in his statuesque posture, staring at his Conjunx--

**I've updated that datapad I provided to you earlier with the information you've requested. Verify it, and allow me to validate it for you...**

\--a bridge's vortex illuminated a few meters behind him in the following moments as Ratchet skims the pinged file and nods to the Prime, confirming coordinates and additional data concerning the lunar outpost's shielding frequencies--

**We are done here then, Pax. Have your subordinates maintain open communications and triangulate their positions to validate the bridge's destination coordinates. Are we free to take our leave?**

\--once the requisite departing pleasantries were offered, reciprocated and made to everyone's mutual satisfaction, meaning terse nods and narrowed glares exchanged, the dark spy's newly acquired entourage arrives in a very specific and terribly bare cargo bay with nothing but a few haphazardly placed storage containers set against a wall and a console that's scrolling nonsensical data across a locked display. Polite as ever, he makes an off-servo gesture towards the locked bay doors and turns to face the escorting sentinels with a raised optic ridge and a slight tilt to his helm as if to further inquire after their lingering presence--

**Have you received confirmation from your medic or your Prime? Have they confirmed your location?**

"We're waiting on communication from our main base of operations. Our liaisons there will be double-checking our status..."

\--the Wrecker, Bulkhead, in all his human-influenced mannerisms makes mention of the humans who work in tandem in the Autobot's cause, and the spy's features remain impassive as his assumptions remain speculative concerning who the mech is referring to. That youngling who's piqued his interest time and time again. The quick, little fleshling that he'd like to hold none too few discussion with concerning a few encounters they've had from afar. Yes, the spymaster is indeed looking forward to working with the one meatbag that shows a bit of promise. Hopefully he won't fall prey to boredom too quickly with the little programmer--

"And we're live, coordinates confirmed. You going to give us the grand tour now?"

**Negative. That was not agreed upon. Your Prime will have to wait for the first scheduled "inspection" of his to sate his curiosity**

\--he flicks his helm up in the direction of the bridge, which has remained open the entire time, gesturing for them to take their leave, dismissing the Autobots without further exchanges. The pair hesitates, then nod when receiving the orders to return, and the cargo bay dims the moment the swirling vortex of unfathomably complicated physics closes upon itself--

\--and the air fall still about the remaining mecha, silent save for running internals and the outpost's thin, ventilated atmosphere--

"Why?"

**You need a medic's attention...**

"Three stellar cycles in spark-silence and you resort to redirection already? Answer me."

**Three stellar cycles in spark-silence to only have you fall under the weight of your own pride and stubbornness. You'll be repaired first, and have your ego and curiosity soothed and sated after**

\--the science officer shakes that great, crimson optic once in negation, shifting to rotate his left shoulder as various bits of tattered and ragged dynamic plating begin to ripple and return to their primary positions. He takes the few, swift steps towards the dark spy and makes to grab for the mech's servo and tip of his wing-blade, pausing mere microns from making any contact--

**...aesthetic subterfuge...**

"I require answers. Why did you flee? What orders were you given? How has this outpost come to be? What has been salvaged from the Nemesis?

"I require answers before repairs. You will provide them."

\--and with bright crimson optics meeting that single glaring orb, unblinking in his resolve, he nods once--

**Acknowledged**


End file.
